


Funny How Love Is

by Maeglin_Surion



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Falling In Love, Fanart, Feelings, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love, M/M, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-05-16 13:47:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19319431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeglin_Surion/pseuds/Maeglin_Surion
Summary: A collection of Ineffable Husbands drabbles and short fictions, because they are an inexhaustible source of imagination.There will sometimes be fanarts too.The ratings will vary.





	1. Leviticus, 18:22

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I wrote about them... I have shipped Crowley and Aziraphale since I read the book and I didn't realize how much I missed these two idiots before watching the series. I fell in love with the book many years ago and I fell back in love with the series last week (which I binge watched twice). I love Crowley and Aziraphale so much and I needed to write about them.
> 
> I'm French, so I'm sorry if there is any mistake remaining!
> 
> Thank you for stopping by, I hope you'll enjoy yourself!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere in London, something happened. It may be right. It may be wrong.  
> Somewhere, there is an angel and... well, he definitely thinks too much for his own good.
> 
> Inspired by the beautiful song [A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5_sW6gEOU24&feature=youtu.be&list=PL24sVZ4gQV9awur-sATrE9__TVNbH0gBH) by David Arnold and Tori Amos.
> 
> Nicely betaed by [Nalou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalou/pseuds/Nalou). Any remaining mistake is mine.

_Leviticus, 18:22: You shall not lie with a man, as with a woman. That is detestable._

It seems like it is written.

Well… Even more so if you are an angel. I guess.

Snuggled up to Crowley, Aziraphale sighs.

“Oops?”

No, it is not an answer.

“I slipped.”

It is not either.

“I tripped up.” Is a little more correct.

Aziraphale looks up at the window, where the moon shines.

What happens to an angel who commits the sin of flesh with a demon?

Is he going to fall? Is he destined to burn in the flames of Hell? 

Aziraphale does not even dare to imagine what Hell would do to him if he ended there.

Or, rather, he knows very well what would happen to him.

And he does not like it. At all.

But… after all…

Who else than God can make an angel fall?

Nobody.

The archangels can scoff, they have no power.

And God is silent.

God is waiting.

God is watching.

Aziraphale has no idea what She thinks about it.

But he knows that he is there, now.

At Crowley's flat, in Crowley’s arms.

He knows what Crowley taught him.

He taught him the fear of losing those we love.

He taught him the pain of absence.

He taught him to yield to temptation.

He taught him to love with all his heart.

Yes.

Today, Aziraphale is happy.

Here, in bed… with Crowley, _his_ demon.

The bed where they have made love.

At daybreak.

A nightingale sings in Berkeley Square.

And nothing else matters.

To love is not a sin.

Come what may.

One day will come the Last Judgment.

That day, it may be time to think about it.

Maybe…


	2. The Callipygian Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Armageddon-That-Wasn't.
> 
> Aziraphale chose Florence as their meeting place and after some time of fruitless search, Crowley found him behind Michelangelo's _David_. Yes, **behind**.
> 
> It was betaed by [Elizabeth_Mary_Holmes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth_Mary_Holmes/pseuds/Elizabeth_Mary_Holmes). Thank you very much, my dear friend.

**Florence, 2019.**

Crowley groaned. For once, that was Aziraphale who chose their city of rendezvous. Obviously, he chose Florence. Why? Florence had Botticelli, the Galleria degli Uffizi, Ponte Vecchio, and of course, some excellent _trattorie_. And Dante. Yes, Florence had Dante, too. However, Aziraphale had not been very specific about the meeting place, so Crowley had walked through half of Florence before remembering of the Uffizi Gallery. Actually, Florence had several attractive things for Crowley, and he had some good memories in it, but there were also things _he did not really want to see again_.

He stopped suddenly in the middle of the gallery: Aziraphale was turning assiduously around a huge and very famous nude. Crowley swallowed; the angel really looked very focused. As he thought about how to move Aziraphale away, he heard him whispered: “Michelangelo's _David_. I never took the time… to watch him… correctly…”

“I prefer Bernini,” Crowley began. “What’s for lunch?” Unconsciously, he had adopted his characteristic contrapposto. Aziraphale frowned, looked up at _David_ , then… “Oh… Oh! You… oh!” he exclaimed. The demon was bright red.

“The back! That was just… the back…” Crowley swore. Well, shit… Why Florence? Seriously, _why the Hell?_

“Naked?” Aziraphale asked.

“Hhrmm…”

“Crowley?”

_Somewhere in Aziraphale's mind, something appeared._

“Itsnotwhatyouthink.”

The gurgle he heard made Aziraphale slightly lost patience. “Oh, for God’s sake Crowley, what the hell did you say?” His voice echoed under the high ceiling. Several tourists stopped to watch them. The angel was truly extremely surprised by the magnitude of his own reaction, but he was trying hard not looking like his patience was wearing thin…

The demon took a deep breath. “It is _not_ what you think, angel.”

Aziraphale gauged him for a few seconds without saying anything, then whispered: “I think you posed naked for Michelangelo.”

Crowley winced. “Well… you… you are not wrong about it… but only for the back, angel. I swear.”

The angel in question was still suspicious, and Crowley mumbled that Michelangelo preferred very muscular men, so he was not his type anyway. _Neither him his._ Obviously, Aziraphale had heard it very well, but he was thinking. Crowley looked really distressed, he blushed severely. Aziraphale vaguely thought he might have been overreacted, but the events of the last few weeks had made him a bit nervous. A bit…

“How did you know him?” he asked.

“He approached me in the street. I was standing in front of the Arno. Thinking.” Crowley answered. _Of you, stupid angel, I was thinking of you._ Of course, he did not tell him. “He told me that he liked my pose,” Crowley added. “He said that was exactly what he needed. I…” Crowley sighed. “I knew who he was. I was curious to see him working.”

“You turned your back on him, you could not have seen him very much.” Aziraphale retorted.

“I posed, he made his drawings, I got dressed and I watched him working. That’s all.” The demon did not understand why Aziraphale had blamed him for posing… it looked like… jealousy. Yes, it must have been jealousy. Damn… Crowley's embarrassment suddenly flew away. He straightened and smiled. The angel blushed immediately.

“He never touched me, angel. No one has ever touched me, I swear.”

A little grandma who watched them from the beginning approached and nudged Aziraphale. “You should marry him.” she said. The angel stared incredulously at her, then she blinked. “Seriously, he has a sexy _bandito_ style, I guess, and if you want my opinion, he's madly in love with you!” She smiled conspiratorially, gave them a wink to each, and then trotted off.

The angel and the demon watched her disappear like a mystical apparition. Somewhere behind Crowley, somebody raised a thumb. Aziraphale felt suddenly stupid.

“I’m sorry.” he said.

“Me too.”

An awkward silence settled down for a few seconds. Finally, Crowley nodded toward the door. “What about a lunch? I'll tell you everything you want to know.” Aziraphale agreed and they started on their way.

“I’m sorry, Crowley,” the angel repeated. “I… I was…”

“Jealous?” The demon could not help but smile.

Aziraphale thought it was no longer the moment to look shocked. He nodded. “Yes. I feel so ridiculous! I mean…”

“You must not, angel,” Crowley said. “I should have told you about it.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Aziraphale added. “But I would like you to do it. Please.”

“Sure. I will.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I dare not talk to them about Bernini, Caravaggio and da Vinci ◔_◔)
> 
>  _Bandito_ is the italian word for a bandit, a bad boy, and _trattorie_ is the plural for _trattoria_ which is a typical italian-style eating establishment.
> 
> As it seems that no one had the idea to draw Crowley with the David's posture (and clothes, haha), I did it myself. So, I have a little fanart to illustrate the fic :'D


End file.
